


Scattered Ashes

by trouvelle



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Crime Scenes, Ensemble Cast, FBI AU, Future Character Death, Macabre, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Serial Killers, Thriller, Violence, longfic to follow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25875061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trouvelle/pseuds/trouvelle
Summary: A number of dead bodies are rapidly turning up, all of them cold and cryptic to the touch, each decorated with peculiarly ornate symbols. When the victims are drawn closer and closer to home, Hattori Heiji has to no choice but to race along with the game. Finding out who the killer is isn't a difficult task, but will Heiji be able to catch the killer before he loses his mind?
Relationships: Akai Shuuichi | Okiya Subaru & Hattori Heiji, Hattori Heiji & Kudou Shinichi | Edogawa Conan, Hattori Heiji/Tooyama Kazuha, Kudou Shinichi | Edogawa Conan & Mouri Ran
Kudos: 8





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I started this years ago and abandoned for a good while but I've come back pretty close to finishing it. It's runs in a different course seeing how I usually only dabble in oneshots, but I guess it's time to sit my ass down for a lengthy and plot-y story. 
> 
> Rated for violence and blood (and mentions of gore).  
> Aiming for mystery and thriller, but while I'm looking at the later chapters... this might take a slow turn to sci-fi.
> 
> It's basically unbeta-ed, so I apologize for all the mistakes uwu

Nothing matters. Nothing is going to change the outcome of this.

The cold of the barrel pressed to his temple sends a shiver through his body. Along with it, a fearful chill, a thrilled shudder racks his bones — a small tremor, one not visible to even a watchful eye… but he feels it, from where the gun is touching his skin all the way down to the tips of his toes. However, the smile on his face is eerily wide, splitting his already bruised lips, his white teeth covered in blood, cheeks lifting to distort his blackened left eye. K holds his gaze on the man standing in front of him, and while the other also has a revolver pointed at him, they both know that one will pull the trigger first.

Really, it doesn't matter.

“This is how it ends,” K breathes out, voice almost carried away by the wind. On the roof of this sky rise condo he knows the detective has to strain to hear him, the wind whipping around them, thunder crackling in the distance. He is standing on the ledge, balanced on the balls of his feet, rocking ever so slightly. There’s no support beneath his heels. Just a little deeper of a flex, and he’ll go sailing eighty floors.

“Kid—” Heiji calls out, his voice warning.

K loves to see the fear in the tantei's eyes. It makes his stomach twist with a sense of triumph.

“Which do you think will kill me?” K asks, his voice a bit breathy with pride, adrenaline. Contrary to the confidence in his voice, his finger trembles on the trigger of the gun he has pointed to his head. One bullet in there. It's a Russian Roulette he’ll surely win. “A hot bullet to my brain, or my head exploding upon impact on the cold cement?”

“Don’t—” Heiji takes a step forward but immediately freezes in place when K flings his free arm out to the side.

“Or maybe a bullet from _you_?” K muses. The wind whips his tattered shirt up, exposing discolored scars speckled across the smooth plane of his abdomen.

“It ain’t gonna end this way! Not like this!” Heiji yells to be heard over the wind. His tie is flapping around and occasionally slapping him in the neck, and with the wind blustering his suit K can see his build, his narrow waist, the curve of his shoulders. Hattori Heiji is a work of art.

K sighs wistfully, tipping his head back and looking up at the sky. It’s cloudy tonight. The moon is hiding, the stars are nowhere to be seen, the wind carrying away any stardust that might be floating in the atmosphere. He shifts on the balls of his feet again, his heels dipping dangerously low, the muscles in his calves begging to be released from the unpleasant stretch.

“This is the only way,” K finally says, lowering his chin to level his eyes with Heiji’s. The arm holding the gun to his head flexes as he readjusts the positioning. The smirk returns to his features, and he rises up onto the tip of his toes. “Let me know which one is my end.”

He jumps.

A single gunshot fires.

Heiji’s screams are lost in the wind.


	2. Part I

**_6 months earlier_ **

_“Another body was discovered yesterday night, this time in a dumpster. Mangled beyond recognition with another design carved into the right arm, it is believed to be the work of the serial killer K, who has been on the loose for five months. No leads have popped up in the case, and the police are working fast to identify the body. Police have not confirmed whether it is a male or female, or if the body fits the description of any missing people. The symbol carved on the victim this time looked like it’s the shape of—”_

Heiji turns off the news, pinching the bridge of his nose before rubbing the center of his forehead. From the other side of the counter, Kazuha who’s putting the dry dishes away, groans in obvious complaint of the TV being turned off.

“We already know all the details,” Heiji says, standing up from the couch and grabbing his suit jacket, draping it over his arm as he collects his papers into the briefcase.

He hears Kazuha’s pout in her voice, “But it’s important to watch the news. Most of the time they know details they’re not supposed to, and they give out inaccurate facts. We have to keep an eye on them.”

“So then maybe you should have become a reporter instead of working for the Bureau with me,” Heiji says with a playful bright grin as he snaps his briefcase closed.

Kazuha rolls her eyes in a pretence of irritation. “As if I can leave you to take care of yourself. Besides, being a reporter is too much of a busybody. I don’t wanna be annoying like that. Shouldn’t you know better than most people?”

“I’m not gonna argue with that,” Heiji chuckles, turning off the light in their living room. “What case are you assigned to today?” The two of them are in different departments, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t tell each other about their own cases. Kazuha mostly gets to deal with delinquents and juvenile cases, meanwhile Heiji is doing what he does best, solving murders.

Kazuha shrugs and dries her hand using the kitchen towel before walking away to get her own blazer from the coat rack. “I’m still working on that missing high school girl case. She went to attend her school in the morning, was seen leaving the school, and then vanished. I found her boyfriend’s car and her belongings inside…” she laughs a little. “Only her debit card was missing. I found a paper trail of it and caught her on camera at a convenience store an hours away— And you know what? Her parents told me that she’s gone missing, _on purpose_ , twice before. I got her on camera buying cigarettes. Her trail went cold after that, but I asked the AV department to keep me on the case. I _know_ she’s going to turn up again soon.”

Whistling, Heiji shakes his head. “That’s ridiculously easy. What with your sixth sense and all, right?” He grins teasingly. 

Kazuha gathers up her things and starts following Heiji out of their apartment, “Yeah but we haven’t found the girl, Heiji. Although I’m grateful that my cases aren’t half as gruesome as yours.”

“Gruesome? You got in a fight with a teenage civilian,” Heiji graciously reminds her, albeit with a hint of pride, as they get into the elevator. 

Kazuha grumbles, “He was a suspect! And you should’ve heard the things he said about women. Punk deserved what he got.”

“You’re a feisty woman, you know that?” _But I wouldn’t want you any other way._

Heiji teases softly, and leans in for a kiss before the elevator door opens to give way for them into the lobby. Kazuha pouts. They’re still going out for date night tonight, anyway. He’ll make up for it later.

—

Heiji is barely inside the office before he hears a stack of files being dropped on his desk with a booming thud. The door hinges creak a little in protest of the speed it was opened and closed so quickly, and when he sees who’s standing by his desk, Heiji’s eyebrows immediately shoot up in surprise.

“Akai-han!” he greets.

“Hattori Heiji-kun,” the man greets in return with a small smile. “It’s been a while.”

Heiji grins widely and approaches his desk with long strides. “What brings you uh, here?” He didn’t know if he intended for it to be a question. Akai Shuichi is one of their top agents, and they’re literally, physically, in the FBI’s black site building after all. Following the Syndicate’s downfall a decade ago, he is still on active duty, mostly going on undercover missions like he always has. However, last he checked, Akai-han was supposed to be on a completely unrelated investigation.

Just then, he sees Kazuha’s face pop up by the glass door. He was about to wave her away but Shuichi beat him to it, instead motioning her to join them. “Just in time, Kazuha-san.”

In the second the door is opened and closed again, Heiji could hear the buzzing of the office beginning to die down in the background. Some of the seasoned agents probably recognized Shuichi, who hasn’t been around much. And the newer recruits are probably wondering who the foreign-looking man is. Laughing a bit, Heiji rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah, not to say that I’m not glad to see you though.” Slowly but surely, the playful mood dampens bit by bit until Shuchi speaks. “Heiji-kun, the K case is yours.”

The entire office goes silent. Heiji stares at Shuichi, wide-eyed, and shoots up to stand rigidly.

“Uhm—” Heiji clears his throat a bit. “I thought—”

“Masumi was working on it,” Shuichi’s gaze lowers a bit, brows knitting.

That’s not news to Heiji. That onna-tantei has been working with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department for some time now. Considering the first three victims were all found in Tokyo, their local police force must be handling the cases, and with Kudo gone to work a case in London, the case must’ve fallen to Sera’s hands. Though she’s unlike Shinichi and himself, she’s a skilled detective in her own ways, and Heiji had thought she’d have solved the murders by now.

“Right, because Sera-chan is the only other detective in Tokyo right now,” Kazuha chimes in.

A sense of trepidation fills Heiji to the core as he looks at the expression on Shuichi’s features. “... Why isn’t she on the case anymore…?”

Shuichi’s gaze rises to meet Heiji’s, the expression a bit hollow. “She went missing yesterday.”

Who saw her last? Was she following any leads? If so, what was the lead she was following? Wasn’t it yesterday night when the fourth victim was found? Heiji feels like he’s exploding with questions but mostly, he feels sick to his stomach.

“Did anyone else know she was working on the case?” Heiji starts. “Does it have anything to do with that victim last night?”

At times like this, Shuichi looks old beyond his years. There’s stubble on his chin and upper lip, and his eyes look even more hollow than they were before. He knows Shuichi carved his way to the top with his damn near-flawless mission success rate. He is a prodigy in the Bureau and often gets called upon for cases all around the world. Shuichi Akai is a force to be feared. He has constructed a steel version of himself with many strengths and attributes, leaving no room for his weaknesses to be shown. And now… his sister, one of the most skilled detectives of the new generation in the country, is missing.

“The victim that was found last night is one of my colleagues, Jodie.”

Jodie-sōsakan? 

This doesn’t make any sense. Unless she was also working on the case, there’s virtually no possibility for her to be targeted. She’s an experienced agent, no less.

Shuichi sounds grave, rightfully so. “The FBI is now officially taking over from this point on.” He says, resting his hand atop the files that he’d set down on Heiji’s desk. “You’re the only person who can take this case.” 

Heiji’s eyes look down to where Shuichi’s hand is resting on the manila folder beneath it. His mind is already racing to skim over all the details he can remember about the victims and the crime scenes, as well as his theory of Sera Masumi’s sudden disappearance — the obvious conclusion is that she only went missing due to his involvement in this K case. Which means that if he takes on the responsibility, his own life is at risk of being entangled in this puzzle, as well.

… But Heiji has never backed down from a challenge before, and he’s not about to change now. Besides, solving murders and puzzles is his game.

“You can count on me, Akai-han.” Heiji nods in determination, looking up at Shuichi. The latter’s hand lifts to hand out the files to him.

“I’ll be investigating what happened to Masumi,” The last folder in Shuichi’s spare hand is held out to his left side, towards Kazuha. “And I’m going to need your assistance, Kazuha-san.”

Kazuha’s jaw drops. “Me?”

The older agent shows no signs that he’s mistaken about anything. His eyes are imploring, a little on the firm side. “You’ve been tracking down missing children, teenagers, and runaway delinquents, yeah?”

Kazuha takes the file with shaky fingers, not daring to open it just yet. “A-ah… of that sort... but those are not the same as tracking leads on missing detectives, Akai-kun.”

Shuichi’s smile is rueful, “You’ve proven your capabilities thus far.”

Kazuha’s doubtful gaze slowly darts to Heiji, and he moves his hand to touch her elbow gently for a reassuring squeeze. 

“I have to step aside to clarify some things with the Director. We have many things to go over, Kazuha-san, but in the meantime, please go through the files.”

Heiji stares at Shuichi’s erected back as the man leaves the room. Shuichi’s eyes may have been heavy, but his spine is strong under the burden.

Heiji respects the man with every fiber of his being.—

Heiji feels like his head is about to split open. Since being handed the K case at eight in the morning he hasn’t slept, he’s barely eaten, and he’s probably had enough beer to knock out a horse. It’s two o’clock in the morning and he’s at home, the files spread out on his coffee table, one stack on the floor, another stack laid out on the dining table. He has his laptop open, the light from it hurting his eyes since every other light in the apartment is off. His fingers move on their own accord, typing things into his laptop, marking things down in his notebook with his pen, sifting through the pages and pictures in the files. He has five months of work to catch up on, and Sera is nothing but thorough. There are notes that Heiji doesn’t quite understand, but he takes them down anyway, tucking them away mentally in his head.

There are virtually no connections whatsoever that can form any link between the victims. There are no similarities in the M.O., and in any of the crime scenes as well. If the bodies hadn’t all been carved with weird hieroglyphics, Heiji doubts he’d even know that this was all done by the same individual.

He doesn’t end up sleeping at all. When Kazuha switches the light on to enter the living room at seven-thirty the next morning, Heiji winces and groans at the sudden burst of light. 

“Heiji,” Kazuha is peering at the cluttered files over his shoulder. “You didn’t come to bed last night.”

Heiji turns to face her with a tired smile and leans forward to give her a peck on her temple. “Morning.”

He slumps back in his chair a bit, staring at the files. Sighing heavily, he re-opens up his laptop. It’s been nearly twenty-four hours, and he thinks he’s finally starting to understand some things.

Ten minutes pass, and the scent of eggs gets significantly stronger. Sitting up, Heiji glances over and sees Kazuha, already standing by the edge of his desk, holding a plate of breakfast but unsure where to put it since all the nearby space has been covered by the case papers.

“Here,” Kazuha holds out the plate, her gaze seemingly patronizing Heiji. “You’re not about to skip breakfast too.”

Smiling gratefully, Heiji takes the plate from Kazuha, chuckling. “Love you too, aho.”

He watches her as she walks away back to the kitchen. Her long hair is messy from her sleep and she’s still in her pajamas. But Kazuha is an efficient woman, and Heiji knows she can zap herself more-than-presentable for work (ready to take on the world and help people, as she puts it) in a matter of minutes. She may not be as soft-spoken as most women he knows, but she truly has the biggest heart and always cares for people a lot more than she lets on. People often tell him that he’s lucky to be with her. He wholeheartedly agrees.

Taking a sip of his coffee, he returns to his work with a little more focus and a slightly lighter heart.

—

Heiji hasn’t seen Kazuha much these past three days. She’s been busy with Shuichi, looking for clues on his sister’s missing person’s case. However today, she’s out on her own to look for anyone who Detective Sera Masumi might have talked to leading up to her disappearance. As in, she’s looking for the people that were in contact with all the previous victims, all of whom the short-haired female detective has on her list.

On the contrary, Shuichi is chasing the lead with Heiji today. He has been in contact with police forces in every single prefecture to see if his sister has shown up anywhere in their vicinity, while cross-referencing each location in association with any of the previous victims.

Then, Shuichi’s phone rings. Hearing a phone ring at their workplace is not new at all. Heiji barely even pays attention, before his ears prick at the sudden change in Shuichi’s voice from calm to—

“You _what_?”

Heiji jumps up from his seat and looks at the man. Shuichi is curled in on himself, shoulders hunched, one hand tangled in his dark, curly locks and the other in a white-knuckled grip on his phone with his elbows digging hard into the surface of his desk.

Heiji has never seen him trembling before. Something is very wrong.

“Don’t— No. I’m on my way.”

"Oi. What's wrong?" Heiji’s frown deepens as Shuichi rises from his seat in a haste, his shaky fingers grabbing his badge, cell phone, and reaching for his gun. “Akai-han!”

Did Kazuha manage to find Sera Masumi?

Shuichi’s eyes do not meet Heiji’s gaze.

“She found Mouri Ran.”

—

It’s raining when Heiji and Shuichi show up to the crime scene. Their black umbrellas are fitting, Heiji thinks sardonically. Their suits are fitting. Everything fits the mood for a funeral… except the one who’s sprawled on her back on the grimy ground of a back alley, throat slashed and skin so sallow it looks like she’d been tortured for years.

Kazuha has always been emotionally strong. She cries easily at the smallest things, like that one time when her father wouldn’t let her keep a kitten she rescued. Or when she lost her necklace and then Heiji had to dig around the park with her. She may have a stronger heart now, shaped over the course of more than a decade’s worth of seeing dead bodies that come with being around Heiji. But that doesn’t mean she’s immune to looking at them, especially the one whose face she holds dear to. 

Kazuha looks shell-shocked. She hasn’t moved an inch since Heiji and Shuichi got there. So when her shoulders start to tremble, her hand moving up to cover her mouth and muffle her silent screams as they look upon their longtime friend, mangled and lifeless, Heiji reaches for her. He finds a limp body, then he wraps his arms around her, pressing their bodies together, strongly and surely together, The rain is rapidly washing away the blood and Ran looks like the angel she always was.

A sacrificed angel, skin porcelain, eyes unseeing up to the Heavens, limbs spread.

Kazuha cannot look away from the sight of her best friend’s body, not even registering when Heiji steps away and forward without an umbrella, crouching down so he can examine Ran’s body close up.

It’s so surreal. Heiji has been seeing dead bodies for as long as he can remember. He’s barely affected at the sight of any corpses, no matter how gruesomely battered they appear. However it’s the first that he’s seen something that is merely a ghost of the life it was before; Ran’s smile, her gentle laugh, her huge heart and her kind words. All of those things are gone forever. They had just gone out for dinner together several weeks ago. He can’t even _begin_ to imagine how Shinichi is going to face this.

A chill runs down his spine.

What if… what if Shinichi is the one being targeted all along? Jodie, Masumi, Ran… they’re all connected to Shinichi. Heiji hadn’t really double checked on the victims before Jodie, but he’s willing to bet that they’re somehow connected to Shinichi as well.

The truth is right in front of them.

Shuichi snaps on a pair of latex gloves and starts pulling at Ran’s clothes — the sweater she had worn to work — checking her pockets, sleeves, shoes, anywhere and everywhere. _To catch this killer_ , he had reminded Heiji before, _you have to detach yourself_.

Kazuha finally tears her gaze away, staring at the ground instead. Heiji knows, he knows it hurts to look at Ran’s lifeless body. To suppress his own tears, he instead is regarding Kazuha. How her fingers tremble against her cheeks with her palm pressed solidly to her mouth, tears tumbling down over her knuckles, how her nostrils flare with every breath she fails to control.

“Shit,” Shuichi’s curse brings Heiji back to the present.

Heiji’s feet move on their own accord and he finds himself bolting back to Ran. Shuichi shifts so Heiji can see where he’s lifted the bloodied shirt; Ran’s stomach has been slashed open, and at first it looks like random hacks until Shuichi starts pointing with a finger, tracing an invisible line.

“Another symbol?!” Heiji can feel fury coursing through his veins. He really should’ve known.

“We have to get the pictures before the rain washes all the evidence away,” Shuichi exhales softly, the flash from his camera muted from the rain.

If there is any, Heiji thinks, as he proceeds to check around the body. He’s starting to feel sick. His gaze then travels upwards, searching for any expression on Ran’s face. He sees nothing. Just her fearful, achingly dead stare.

_Remember Ran how she was, not how she was found._

“Please handle this delicately,” Shuichi says to the crime scene officers as the coroner shows up. He calls out to backup officers that are starting to arrive, “Seal off the area. No one gets in, no one takes photos — no one should be able to zoom in close enough to even make out the color of your shoes. Got it?”

Heiji wants to scream out a protest. They shouldn’t be moving Ran’s body, not just yet. He knows Shinichi will want to see her, really look at her, kiss away her blood, bid his goodbye for the last time. But it’s impossible for him to get here in such a short time span. Not unless Shinichi can teleport.

“Kazuha-san, take the rest of the day — the week — off. I’ll handle Masumi’s investigation myself from now on,” Shuichi says as he passes by Kazuha, pausing to rest his hand on her shoulder for a fleeting second. The case isn’t closed, but they all know she won’t be able to work under these circumstances.

Kazuha stays rooted to the spot, and Heiji reaches out for her and grabs her hand again. She is silent, her eyes unwavering from a spot on the ground. Heiji can’t deny how heavy he’s feeling right now, how much he wants to punch and kick and slash at something, _anything_. But he has to stay strong for the both of them. He has to stay strong to find whoever is responsible for doing this to Ran. He has to steel himself to catch whoever is hunting for Shinichi, playing a disgusting game like this. Heiji is beyond sick.

He pulls her into a tight, brief hug, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll bring home dinner.” He pulls out his cell phone and calls a cab, telling Kazuha where it will pick her up. “Don’t do anything stupid, ok?” he says as a warning, severity in his voice.

Nodding vaguely, finally, Kazuha drags her eyes up to meet Heiji’s, her tears washed away by the rain, just like Ran’s seemingly everflowing blood. “Please come home tonight.” What she says is like a ghost of a whisper. 

Heiji’s heart does this awful thing between squeezing and freezing over. He offers a tepid grin, a far cry from his usual one, “I will.”

He will.


End file.
